


Operation Quake

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Daisy Daisy Daisy, Daisy Is The Only Marvel Superhero, Daisy Taking Care of Her People, Daisy Using her Powers for Good, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Inhumans (Marvel), Living in a Post-Sokovia World, Mentions of Mack/Elena, Near Future, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Phil Coulson is a sad sexy baby deer, Skye | Daisy Johnson Feels, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Skye | Daisy Johnson-centric, Slow Build, Sokovia Accords, Wall Sex, casual mention of Fitz dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7121374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post S3: Daisy Johnson is determined to do all she can for people - be they Inhumans or humans - or Glenn Talbot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts), [Pippypaleopath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippypaleopath/gifts), [BrilliantlyHorrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/gifts).



> That 'Six Months Later' scene in the S3 finale is a total gift to Daisy stans, and I couldn't resist the idea of writing a fic in which Daisy continues to help the people who need her help, regardless of who they are, or who's trying to capture her. This is set over a 4 year period and features quite a few original characters, as well as actual AoS characters.

**[1: New York]**

I watch in amazement as the two guys who'd jumped me in the alley are tossed around, punched, and kicked by the young woman who'd jumped them mere minutes after they'd jumped me. The young woman is about six inches shorter than either of them, and probably weighs only half of what either of them does, but she isn't letting that slow her down, and I am a bit embarrassed to realise that watching the fight is totally arousing: I've always preferred women who know how to take care of themselves, and this one clearly does. 

It isn't until she lifts both her arms up, palms outstretched, that I suddenly realise who my saviour actually is – none other than Quake herself, and I have to take a moment to adjust myself while she throws the two guys across the alley using her powers, leaving them slumped unconscious against the base of the wall. When she turns back to me, however, I've more or less recovered my composure.

"Are you okay?" she asks, hurrying over to offer me a hand; she pulls me up with a strength that's belied by her small frame. 

"A few bruises, a sprained wrist," I tell her as I try to straighten my rumpled clothes. She bends to pick up some of my scattered belongings, and I am grateful for the help. "Thanks for the assist. I really thought my number was up. It's lucky you came along."

"Lucky nothing," she says immediately. "I've been looking for you."

I flash her a startled look, worry overcoming my desire to flirt. "You have?"

"You're Dave, aren't you?" she asks. "Graduate student at NYC. Newly transformed Inhuman." The last three words she utters in a lower, quieter tone, despite the fact we're the only ones in the alley who can hear.

"Yeah," I breathe, not daring to ask how she knows about me.

She nods. "You know they're only the first," she says, gesturing at the downed thugs. "They'll keep coming after you – that's what the Watchdogs do."

"Watchdogs?" I repeat, confused.

"Anti-Inhuman hate group," she tells me as she hands me the last of my scattered belongings. "We should get out of here."

"Where?"

"I know somewhere safe. We'll stop by your place so you can pick up some clothes, but then we have to disappear."

I swallow, then nod. "I figured if I kept my head down, it wouldn't come to this," I tell her as I follow her out of the alley and onto the main street.

"That's what everyone hopes, but everyone's wrong," she tells me, her tone and expression bleak.

She lets me lead the way, although I suspect that she already knows exactly where I live, and we walk in a silence which is more awkward than I'd anticipated. I notice that she walks with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans, looking casual if you ignore the way she's obviously tracking every single person on the street. She wears a dark blue plaid shirt with the sleeves ripped out, over a fishnet top; dark jeans with holes in the knees; a black beanie; and what I suspect is a wig of long, black hair. The look is very Goth, and gives the impression that she's younger than I might have guessed were it not for the look that lurks in the back of her eyes – a look of weariness that tells me she's seen far more pain and cruelty than I have, although I've probably got 5 or 6 years on her.

"Where are we going?" I ask once we're in my apartment and she's strapping up my sprained wrist.

"Best you don't know," she says, "what you don't know, no one can torture out of you."

I swallow down an instinctive protest, then nod. "Do you have transport?"

"I do."

She doesn't say any more on the topic, so I simply start packing clothes into my bag as fast as I can move. I can sense her impatience, but she's very careful not to speak it aloud, which I appreciate.

"How long – " I begin, then have to pause to speak past the lump in my throat. "How long do you think we'll be hiding?"

She gives what looks like a careless shrug, but I'm not convinced by her attempt at indifference. "Until those idiots in charge engage their brains and repeal the Sokovia Accords."

"Can I ask how many others you've taken to safety?"

"Four so far. It took me months to be able to find a safe place for us, and to ensure it'll stay safe no matter what."

I zip my bag closed, pull on my leather jacket, then shoulder my bag. "I'm ready," I tell her, and she gives a nod in which I can see relief that we're leaving. She leads the way, taking the back way out of the building, and I'm impressed by how well she knows her way around.

"Hey, didn't you used to be a hacker?"

She flicks a glance at me, then says, "Hacktivist. Not quite the same thing."

We step out of the fire exit at the rear of my apartment building, and I see a powerful, dark metallic blue motorbike parked in the alley. Quake heads straight for it, and I have a moment of worry that riding a motorbike with her might not be the most sensible plan.

"C'mon," she says, clearly impatient at my dawdling, and I hurry to join her, accepting the helmet she offers to me and putting it on, then settling my rucksack comfortably onto my back, before I climb up behind her. She's put on a helmet of her own, as well as a leather jacket, and she looks very 'biker chic', I think.

"Hold on," she tells me, then guns the engine, and we roar away in an explosion of noise that seems deafening, although it's not that loud really. She is careful to keep to just under the speed limit, I notice, which surprises me until I find myself wondering if she has any legal ID, given that she's a fugitive – if not, that would explain her cautiousness.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

Hours later I feel the bike come to a stop, and then I hear her say, "You can look now", so I reach up and pull off the helmet, then untie the bandana with which she'd blindfolded me an hour or so earlier. We're in what appears to be an abandoned warehouse – it's cavernous and cold, and not a little grubby underfoot, but I can tell Quake doesn't care too much about the lack of cleanliness, and I realise that it's probably way down on her list of priorities.

"Leave the helmet there," she tells me, hooking hers over the bike's handlebar. "Hungry?"

I nod. It's been a few hours since we last stopped to take a break long enough to refuel the bike and ourselves.

"I'll take you to the mess, first, then get someone to show you to your room." 

"Thank you," I say sincerely. "Thanks for coming to get me."

She gives a shrug that I suspect is meant to be nonchalant. "It's what I do."

I follow her across the open space until we reach a door that leads onto a flight of stairs that takes us up to the next floor, and as we walk down a long, grey hallway, I hear voices and the clatter of what sounds like kitchenware.

Stepping through the door behind Quake I find three faces turning towards me: one man, black like me, and a few years older than me; one woman younger than Quake, who I think might be German or Scandinavian; and an older white woman with grey hair who peers at me short-sightedly.

"Everyone, this is Dave," Quake tells them. "Dave, this is Mark, Nat, and Amanda. Your new housemates."

Amanda snorts. "Housemates. Inmates more like."

"Amanda," says Mark in a warning tone.

"It's fine, Mark," Quake says immediately. She folds her arms and stares hard at Amanda. "I've told you before, you're free to leave here any time you choose. But if you do leave, you can't come back. I can't risk anyone but me knowing the location of this place, not if I'm to keep you all safe."

The older woman looks abashed, and turns away, fussing with an array of mugs on the counter behind her.

"Mark, once you've all eaten, do you mind showing Dave upstairs and getting him settled in?"

"I don't mind at all," Mark says, his voice a slow-drawl that I am surprised to find soothing.

"Thanks." She turns to Nat. "What's for dinner?"

"I made pizzas," the younger woman says, smiling shyly up at her.

"Excellent. Your pizzas are the best."

She blushes at this compliment, then opens the door of the oven and pulls out 3 baking trays, each loaded with a thick crust pizza. "There's two meat and one vegetarian," she says.

The pizzas look and smell mouth-wateringly good, and it doesn't take long for Nat to divide them up so everyone's got some. Quake grabs a Coke, her loaded plate, and a couple of napkins, then heads across the room, which takes me by surprise – I'd expected her to eat with us.

"She's got a lot of work to catch up on," Mark says, clearly catching my disappointed look.

"Work?" I ask, confused.

"She keeps track of Inhumans all over the country," Nat says, settling on my other side, with Amanda sitting opposite us. "She has news feeds and searches set up that allow her to see where the Watchdogs are operating, and where she'll need to go to rescue people."

I shake my head, amazed and awed that one person would take on so much for the sake of total strangers.

After we've eaten, and drunk a couple of beers, Mark takes me upstairs to find me a room, and I realise that this place might be as huge as a warehouse, but it clearly wasn't one formerly.

"What is this place, do you know?" I ask as Mark shows me which rooms are already occupied by him, Nat, and Amanda, then tells me to take my pick of the rest.

"It was an Army base at one stage, decades ago," he tells me. "That much Quake's told me."

"Huh. Makes sense, I guess." He nods, and waits for me to make a decision, and I opt to take the room next to his.

"Bathrooms are at the end of the hall," he says, gesturing to two doors at the far end of a hallway that holds around thirty rooms. "They're communal, but with so few of us here at the moment, that's not a big issue."

I nod, then put my rucksack down on the floor. "What else do I need to know?"

"Breakfast is usually at 8, lunch at 1, and dinner at 7. If you want food in between times, there's plenty down there, but we keep a running inventory of what food's in stock so Quake knows when to buy more of whatever we need. We take it in turns to cook dinner, and to do the washing up after meals." He rubs his hand over his chin, then adds, "Better let me know if there's anything you're allergic to, or if you have any specific dietary requirements."

I shake my head. "Nope."

"Okay. I'll leave you to get settled. You want anything, I'll be downstairs for another couple of hours so come and find me."

"Thanks." 

He gives me a nod, then walks away, closing the door behind him, and I decide I need a shower more than anything else, so I wander down the hallway to inspect the bathroom to see what supplies are provided. I find a stack of clean, fresh-smelling towels of various sizes on a shelf above the heater in the men's bathroom, and some bottles of generic shower gel and shampoo, so I decide I'll use my own. 

An hour later, I'm sprawled on my bed, half asleep, and trying to decide whether to ring my mom or my dad first (my parents divorced when I was 11, but it was a fairly amicable split, fortunately), when someone knocks on my door.

"Come in."

I'm both surprised and pleased when Quake pokes her head around the door. "Hey," she says. "I forgot to tell you, your cell won't work in here."

I sit bolt upright. "Why not?"

"I can't have anyone using our signals to track us down," she says soberly, and my initial annoyance dissolves as I realise that this makes sense. 

"How do I let my family know I'm okay?" I ask anxiously.

"Give me email addresses, and write down messages for whomever you want to contact, and I'll send them on."

"Will they be able to reply?" I ask.

She nods. "I'll print off any messages that come in for you, and you can write up any replies. So long as I'm here, I'll send them off ASAP. But you should bear in mind, I spend about 80% of my time off base."

I swallow, then nod. "It's better than being totally incommunicado and making them think the worst about my lack of contact."

She positively beams at my comment, which makes me flush with desire, but I do my best to hide it from her. She starts to turn away, then pauses and says, "There's an in-tray in the mess – leave your messages there. I'll make sure they go out before I leave the base again."

"Thank you."

She nods, then slips out of the doorway, and I rummage in my rucksack for a pen and a notepad. This is going to be a strange sort of life, but at least I'll be alive.

**[Interlude 1]**

"Daisy." 

She turns at the low voiced call of her name, shoulders tense, then relaxes when she sees the two figures who step out of the trees on the edge of the park.

"Mike, Akela." 

They start to make a slow circuit of the park together. "How are you?" Mike Peterson asks.

"Just the usual complaints," she tells him with a rueful half-smile.

"Exhausted, tired of hiding, and tired of being vilified," he says.

"Something like that," she agrees, trying to keep her tone light.

"You look like shit," Akela tells her bluntly, and Daisy winces.

"Yeah," she agrees. "It's starting to catch up with me now."

Mike nods easily. "Well, it's been a year since you left SHIELD, hasn't it?" 

"And took to a life of vigilantism," Akela adds, a sarcastic note in her voice.

Daisy rolls her eyes. "Batman never had it this tough," she observes, and her friends chuckle, and if it's a bit subdued, at least they laughed a little.

"No one ever said being a superhero was easy," Mike reminds her.

"Yeah, no, I know that. It's just – I wish the government and whoever would realise that powered people are not, by and large, dangerous – we just want to get on with our own lives as best we can."

Mike rests his hand on her shoulder for a moment, and she's reminded of Coulson, which she resents, because thinking about him is still painfully hard, and she doesn't if she can help it (well, no more than two or three times a day). She'd thought losing Lincoln was the hardest thing (after losing her parents a second time), but it turned out that leaving Coulson was even harder, especially because she couldn't say goodbye to him in any meaningful way without making him aware that she was leaving. He'd have wanted to either try to persuade her to stay or he'd have offered to come with her, and for different reasons, neither of those was truly an option.

"How's Ace?" she asks Mike, shaking off her melancholy abstraction before either of her companions feels compelled to comment on it.

Mike smiles, as he always does at the thought of his son. "Wants to know when you're going to visit."

"I'll try to make it soon," she tells him. "But don't make him any promises, okay?"

"I know," he says softly, and she shakes her head. 

"Sorry," she says. "I'm not trying to teach granny how to suck eggs."

Akela snorts, then changes the subject, asking about Daisy's newest 'recruit', not that she's building an Inhuman army – although she's sure plenty of people would see it that way. But really, she's just trying to keep her people safe – much as her mother had done for so many years. She thinks about Jiaying a lot lately.

"He's settling in," Daisy tells them. "Slowly. It's hard. Well, you know, it's hard for all of us, finding ourselves on a Most Wanted list merely for existing."

"Where are you headed next?" asks Mike.

"Massachusetts."

"Well take care of yourself," Akela says, and surprises Daisy by hugging her. It's the first time she's ever done that, and Daisy hopes there's no significance to the gesture.

"Ride safely," Mike tells her, and she nods, swallows, then turns and heads back to the base for the night before her trip out tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Mike Peterson would totally make himself available as Daisy's mobile back-up!

**[2: North Carolina]**

"Amber, quickly! This way!"

The voice behind me is urgent and commanding, and I turn around quickly to see a young woman beckoning to me from the entrance to an alley. I look back at my pursuers who, clearly thinking I'm trapped by the chain-link fence ahead of me, have slowed to a walk. I run across to the alley and the young woman grabs my elbow, not painfully but firmly, and guides me at a run out of sight of my pursuers.

I look around, and feel confused as to why she's brought me to this spot – the alley leads into a loading bay, in other words, it's another dead end, and I can't see how I'm any better off here.

"I need you to trust me," the young woman says. "I know you don't know me, but I'm the only one who can get you safely out of here."

I swallow, then nod agreement, and she gives me a quick smile that brightens her face, banishing the exhausted look from her eyes for a moment. 

"I want you to hold onto me," she says, "and turn with me as I turn, and whatever you do, don't let go."

I feel pretty confused, but I wrap my arms around her body, and as she begins to turn in a slow circle, bringing me with her, her hands are outstretched, palms down, towards the ground; the air begins to vibrate rapidly, and it occurs to me that I've gone from being chased by two dangerous Inhumans to being rescued by another. 

"Jump!" she snaps in my ear, and I obey without even thinking, and a moment later the two of us are flying upwards from the loading bay, our leap 'powered' by the vibrating air so that we can land on the roof of the warehouse to which the loading bay belongs.

We land in a fairly ungainly heap on the roof, and I have a moment's panic that I've broken my ankle, but the young woman's already helping me to my feet and, holding onto my elbow again, we run across the roof back away from the chain-link fence, towards the main street in town.

We leap off the roof, and the young woman vibrates the air beneath us, slowing our fall so that we barely even bump as we hit the sidewalk at the entrance to the side street I ran down just a few minutes ago.

"I need to get you out of here," she says, and hustles me up the sidewalk.

"Who are you?" I gasp, feeling completely bewildered by my rapid change of fortunes.

"Daisy," she says. "My name's Daisy Johnson." Then she grimaces. "You've heard of Quake?"

"You're Quake?" I ask disbelievingly. No one's been able to identify the mysterious young woman who's been wreaking havoc across multiple states for over a year. 

"That's me," she says, and I realise that she doesn't sound very happy about identifying herself as Quake. Which I guess isn't that surprising considering how much the press and the authorities like to vilify her. I've seen people flinging all sorts of accusations about, blaming her for earthquakes not just across the United States, but also in Japan and Australia.

Somehow I can't imagine her provoking earthquakes just for the sake of it – I don't know why I think it, but she doesn't seem the sort. Or maybe I'm just biased because she's just saved me from death at the hands, and powers, of a couple of Inhumans who make a habit out of torturing animals.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"I've got transport," she says, "and I'm going to take you somewhere safe, before I go back and deal with Heckle and Jeckle."

"What about my little sister?" I ask anxiously. "I'm supposed to pick her up from her ballet class in 20 minutes."

Daisy's face goes completely blank for a moment as she stumbles to a halt, then she inhales deeply, before saying, "We'll pick up your sister first."

It turns out Daisy's transport is a motorbike, and I can only gape at it in amazement while she passes me a crash helmet, before putting on her own. She pulls out her cell phone and taps a couple of things, then asks, "Where's the ballet class happening?"

I tell her, and she nods, taps a bit more on her cell, then sets it into a clamp on the bike's handle bars. She mounts the bike, then waits for me to climb up behind her.

"Hold tight," she tells me, and I immediately wrap my arms around her torso, and moments later we roar off along the street.

We arrive just before Maisie's class lets out, so she sends me in to fetch Maisie, while she unclamps her cell. "I'm going to call a friend of mine," she tells me before I go inside. "He'll meet us at the safe house, and stay with the two of you while I go back out."

I nod, then hurry inside. I'm feeling a bit shaky, and realise that it's the adrenaline crash from being chased and then rescued. I duck into the bathroom and take a few moments to splash cold water on my face, then to drink some from my cupped hand before I go to pick up Maisie. I wonder what Daisy is planning to do to 'Heckle and Jeckle' as she dubbed the Inhumans, and although I know it's wrong of me, I can't help hoping that she's planning something painful: those two – 17 year old twin brothers – are vicious bullies who've been torturing animals, usually kids' pets, for the last couple of years, that I know about, as well as tormenting kids younger than them. Now that they've got Inhuman powers – something I don't fully understand – they've escalated and I've been worrying that it won't be long before they move onto hurting people, instead of merely verbally abusing their human victims. 

I find Maisie's classroom, luckily arriving just as the kids are pouring out, and she flings herself at me in an enthusiastic hug. I take a moment to hug her back, arms tight around her, then I lead her down the hallway and outside to where Daisy's waiting. She smiles in a genuine fashion when I introduce her to Maisie, then asks Maisie if she wants to go on an adventure.

"Will there be wizards and fairies?" she asks as Daisy checks to make sure I've got Maisie secured in my lap – it's hardly the safest way to travel and if the cops spot us, we're likely to get pulled over, but Daisy doesn't seem to let that worry her.

"No, but there will be a cyborg," she says, and there's something in her tone that tells me that this isn't just her playing along. "His name's Mike, and although he looks a bit scary, I promise you, he's a very kind and gentle man. He's got a son named Ace who's just a few years older than you."

"Ace is a cool name," says my six year old sister in a very definite fashion.

"Yes it is," Daisy agrees, grinning. "Now, promise me you'll hold on very tightly to Amber."

"I will!" She nods vigorously, and I meet Daisy's eyes over Maisie's head. The look she gives me is a bit strained, I realise for the first time, but she looks fiercely determined to keep us both safe. I nod and she returns the nod, then turns around and starts up the bike.

It's not a very comfortable journey: Maisie's sitting on my lap, facing me, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around me, and I'm sitting behind Daisy with my arms wrapped securely around her, so Maisie is effectively sandwiched between us. Fortunately, though, it only takes about ten minutes to cross town, and it's clear that Maisie is having the time of her life.

Daisy parks the bike behind a house on the outskirts of town, and a tall, young-ish black man comes through the door. I swallow hard at the sight of him – he's bald and the right side of his face has been very badly burned, but he smiles at Daisy, and that makes him look less scary somehow.

"Okay?" he asks in a soft voice, and Daisy nods, then looks over her shoulder at me. 

"Amber, this is Mike. Mike, meet Amber and her sister Maisie."

"Hi Maisie, hi Amber."

"Are you really a cyborg?" demands Maisie, making me flush with embarrassment, but he seems to take the question in his stride. 

"I am. If you come inside, I'll show you my arm and leg."

"Okay!" She reaches towards him and he lifts her carefully from my lap, so I climb off the bike, then Daisy climbs off too.

"Did you have time to pick up some take out on the way over?" she asks, and Mike nods. 

"Yeah, I got pizzas."

"Good." 

I look at her more closely as we head inside together, and I realise that she looks utterly exhausted. "Are you okay?" It's probably none of my business, but I'm so used to looking after Amber that it doesn't immediately occur to me that it's potentially rude question.

She nods. "I just need some food," she says. "Using my powers uses up my energy."

"Oh." I digest this in silence as Mike leads the way, still carrying Maisie, who is chattering in his ear, down a hallway and into a kitchen which smells delightfully of pizza. 

Mike carries Maisie over to the sink and sits her on the counter, then washes her hands and face, before lifting her down to the floor.

"Can I see your arm and leg now?" 

"After dinner," he tells her, and to my surprise she accepts this, then hurries to my side. 

"Take a seat," Daisy tells us. "What pizzas did you bring Mike?"

He reels off the names of three different varieties, and Maisie and I tell him that we both prefer Hawaiian. Soon we're settled around the table, eating pizza and drinking soda in the case of Maisie and I, and beer in the case of Daisy and Mike. They easily make conversation with us, even Maisie, and that impresses me because not all adults are good at talking to kids, even those adults with kids of their own. 

Eventually we've all eaten enough, and Mike leads me and Maisie upstairs to a neat bedroom where he sees us both settled in after he's demonstrated his cyborg arm and leg for Maisie. I feel kinda surprised that she's not more scared or grossed out, but maybe it's because he's seemed so gentle and kind since we got here. I'm even more surprised when Maisie asks him for a story, and he settles on the chair on her side of the double bed we're sharing, and begins with 'Once upon a time'. After a while I hear the door closing quietly downstairs, then the roar of the motorbike, and I glance over at Mike, who just gives me a small nod, not once interrupting his storytelling.

I wonder what Daisy's going to do to 'Heckle and Jeckle', and whether she'll tell me after it's done. I also wonder what Daisy's own story is – there must be more to it than the fact that the newspapers call her Quake, and blame her for all sorts of stuff. I consider asking Mike, but I'm not certain he'll tell me.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

I'm surprised to find Maisie and I have both slept in when she wakes me the next morning demanding to know where the bathroom is with insistent whispers of 'I gotta go, I gotta go.' We slip out of bed, and I lead her along the hallway, grateful that someone's left the door to the bathroom open so that it's easy to know which room it is – I'd hate to open the wrong door.

As we're coming back out of the bathroom, Daisy pokes her head around one of the other doors, and I'm amazed to discover that her hair is short and dark brown – she'd been blonde last night, and it takes me a moment to realise she must have been wearing a wig, and probably makes a habit of changing her appearance on a regular basis to help her to avoid detection.

"Did you sleep?" she asks, then rubs a hand over her face, and I find myself wondering if she did, because she looks exhausted this morning.

"Yes, thank you," I tell her.

"Is it breakfast time?" Maisie asks with all the directness of a hungry 6 year old.

"It is," she agrees. "I think Mike's already gone downstairs. He's probably making scrambled eggs and toast."

"Can I have juice?"

"You certainly can," Daisy says. "Do you want to go on down and ask him for some?"

"Yeah." 

Maisie looks up at me, but before I can say anything, Daisy says, "Amber and I will come downstairs soon."

"Okay." She scampers along the hallway and bounds downstairs, and I give Daisy an expectant look.

"Come in," she says and steps back from the doorway. "Don't mind the mess, I didn't get back until late – or, well, early, if you like."

I follow her into the room and discover there's a pile of clothes in the corner by the bed, and I wonder if she simply pulled them off before climbing into bed. She's wearing mid-blue sweatpants and a darker blue sweater at present, and I figure that's her sleeping clothes. I'm still wearing the borrowed pyjamas that Mike had unearthed last night from the closet in the room Maisie and I had shared, so it almost feels like a slumber party. If I was ever likely to have a slumber party with someone I'd guess is about ten years older than me, and is a sort of superhero, too.

"I wanted to talk to you about what I did last night, and what you and Maisie want to do going forward," Daisy says. 

She sits cross-legged on the foot of her bed where the comforter's folded back, and at her gesture, I sit in the chair beside the bed.

"I tracked down the Mills brothers," she begins, "and found them beating up a couple of teens – I'm not sure what provoked the beating, but I imagine, knowing their type only too well, they didn't need much, if any, provocation."

"They've always been bullies," I tell her. "More verbal than physical before." I swallow before continuing, "And they've been torturing animals, mostly kids' pets, for at least a couple of years."

She nods, seeming unsurprised by this information. "I stopped them from beating the teens unconscious," she tells me. "And unsurprisingly they resented my interference, which resulted in a fight. They came off worst, though, and are currently under armed guard in the local ER."

"What about the teens?" I ask.

"They're also in the ER, under a separate armed guard until such time as the Mills brothers are transferred to jail."

"Thank you," I say quietly.

"Don't thank me," she says, a little adamantly, it seems to me. "Despite what you may have heard or read from the media, my job is to protect people – whether that's Inhumans who are in trouble from bigoted humans, or humans who're at risk from dangerous Inhumans."

"That doesn't mean you don't deserve gratitude, though," I say firmly.

She nods, looking a bit embarrassed by my thanks. "Now, I want to know what you want to do. You're only 18, which is pretty young to have sole charge of Maisie, even though she seems like a pretty well-adjusted child."

I give her a surprised look. "How d'you know Maisie and I only have each other?"

"I looked you up," she tells me, smirking a little, and I can't help noticing that it's a look that suits her. "I've got a – well base, I guess you can call it – in one of the more northern states. There's about a dozen people there currently, most, but not all, of them are Inhumans of various ages and genders, Mike and his son, Ace, live there too, when Mike's not playing mobile back up for me, like he is at the moment. You'd be safe there, and there'd be others there to help you to look after Maisie. You could study – although while you're living at the base, you'd have to stick to taking online classes as I keep the location top secret."

"What does that mean?" I ask, a bit confused.

"It means that whenever I take new people there, they arrive blindfolded. I usually put the blindfold on when we're still an hour or so away, which means no one can pinpoint the exact location of the base. That's as much to protect those who live there as it is to protect me. Which means that heading out to a college campus on a regular basis in order to study wouldn't be possible."

"How long can we stay?"

"As long as you need," she says. "I'm not going to lie to you, Amber, you could be there for years – depending on how long it takes the good old US of A's government to realise that most Inhumans just want to get on with their lives. Until the Sokovia Accords are removed from the statute books, it's not really safe for people like me to be out in the world."

"Yet you go out and try to help people."

She nods. "Yeah, I try to be the shield for those who don't have one."

"Do I have to decide today?" I ask.

"Nope. I'm not planning on leaving here today." She gives me a crooked smile. "I'm way too exhausted from the fight last night, and it's going to take me until tomorrow to recover. So why don't you go and have breakfast with Mike and Maisie, and think it over, and let me know once you've made a decision."

I nod, and get to my feet. "Thank you."

She shakes her head. "If you want to ask Mike what it's like living at the base, he'll be honest with you."

"Do you blindfold him?" I ask, suddenly curious.

She chuckles. "I don't – only because it'd be a waste of time because Mike's got enough tech on board to be able to pinpoint the base's location in a matter of moments. Besides, I've known Mike a long time, and I trust him with my life."

I smile at the idea, then head towards the bedroom door. "I'll let you know by tomorrow at breakfast," I tell her, and she nods.

"Okay. Enjoy your day."

"Sleep well," I say gently, and she offers me that smirk again.

"I'm sure I will."

As I head downstairs, I wonder why I didn't just come out and tell Daisy that I'd be happy for me and Maisie to live at her base. It couldn't be any worse than what I've been doing the last six years since mom died shortly after giving birth to Maisie. (Dad's been out of the picture since a couple of months before Maisie's birth – he ran off with a younger woman, the bastard.) It hasn't been easy, avoiding the authorities, or nosy do-gooders, who'd undoubtedly have put the two of us into foster care had anyone found out that a 12 year old girl was bringing up her baby sister, but we've managed, more or less. The thought of being somewhere safe, of living with other people who'd have no desire to get the authorities involved, is too tempting for me to consider refusing Daisy's offer. I almost turn around and head back upstairs to tell her, but I decide to let her sleep – tomorrow morning is soon enough to give her my decision.

**[Interlude 2]**

"Daisy." 

Joey's voice is soft, but worried, as Daisy joins him and Elena outside the coffee shop which is their usual meeting place.

"Joey, Elena. You're both looking good."

"You're not," Elena says bluntly.

"I'm fine," she tells her dismissively. 

"You should learn to lie better, my friend."

"What news do you have for me?" Daisy asks Joey, after quirking a smile at Elena.

The two of them fill Daisy in on the whereabouts of Mack and May, and of Simmons and Fitz – Elena breaking the news that the latter had been killed a few days earlier.

"How?" asks Daisy, immediately wondering how Jemma is dealing with this.

"You remember that Dr Radcliffe?" Elena asks.

"How could I forget?" Daisy says dryly. 

"He's been messing around with AIs and stuff – "

"You'd think people would've learned from Stark's example by now," Joey puts in.

"If only," Daisy says, then nods at Elena to continue. 

"There was some sort of accident in the lab – Jemma doesn't know exactly what happened as she wasn't there, but Fitz wound up dead and Radcliffe was very badly injured, and Jemma thinks he might not survive, even with all the adaptations he's given himself."

"I hope Jemma will be okay," Daisy says, and wishes she had more energy to expend on worrying about her, but there's too many other people to worry about. "And how's 'Turtle Man'?" She finds it kinda cute that Elena had nicknamed Mack that, given that Mack's so fond of giving other people nicknames, like 'Tremors' and 'Yo-Yo'.

"He's worried about Agent Coulson," Elena says, and Daisy doesn't flinch at the mention of that name, but that's only because she's trained herself not to wear her heart on her sleeve any longer.

"Why?" Daisy asks, albeit reluctantly.

"Mack says he doesn't eat unless Mack reminds him, and stands over him while he eats. He doesn't sleep much either, and he stopped shaving." She gives Daisy a straight look. "Mack thinks he's depressed. He asked me to ask you when you're coming home."

Daisy doesn't roll her eyes, quite, but she feels like it. "Home? What home? The Playground is gone. The only home I have now is in Wisconsin filled with people who need to be protected because the wider world is no longer safe for them."

Joey reached over and touched her arm. "Mack thinks Agent Coulson would do better if he got to see you – in person, that is – not just through a pair of binoculars."

Daisy felt her stomach churn. It wasn't that she didn't want to see Phil Coulson, who was the best friend she'd ever had – consistently supportive and caring and kind, even when she thought she didn't deserve those things – but she wasn't sure she could see him again. Because seeing him, and then having to walk away from him a second time, would be so hard. At the same time, though, it was hard to say no if Mack really believed it would help Coulson, whom she'd never wanted to hurt.

"I'll think about it," she says finally. "And let you know."

Elena nods. "I'll tell him. Is there anything you need?"

"I could use Joey's building skills," she admits.

The young man's eyes light up in obvious surprise and pleasure. "You've got another project for me?" he asks, and Daisy nods. 

He looks at Elena, who shrugs. "I'm not going to stand in the way of your geekery," she says, but she's smirking so Daisy knows she doesn't mind if Joey comes back to the base with her. 

"You could come, too," she suggests, because while Joey's been there a couple of times before, Elena never has, not so far.

The other woman shakes her head. "I promised Mack that I would get back as soon as I could."

"Okay." 

The three get to their feet, and hugs are exchanged, before Elena heads off to pick up her car and head back to Mack. Joey meanwhile, holds out his hand, and Daisy smirks a little, then puts a bandana in his hand, and waits while he ties it in place, before leading him across the street to where she's parked her motorbike.

He climbs up behind her after she's settled her spare helmet on his head, and as he wraps his arms around her torso, he says softly, "I really think you should agree to a meeting with Agent Coulson. Elena and Mack are very worried about him. He's lost weight, and his leg is troubling him again – I think he did something to it one day when he was chasing after you."

Daisy knows that Joey's not trying to guilt trip her, but she can't help resenting his words, just a tiny bit. After all, she didn't ask Coulson to chase after her – she never has, although he's been making a habit of it all the time she's known him. 

She has a sudden, vivid, memory of him walking through the door of the Vibranium room aboard the old Bus, gun in hand, when the late, unlamented Grant Ward had locked her up once she'd revealed she knew he was HYDRA. And she remembers May telling her about Coulson chasing her down into the temple in San Juan, despite knowing that the place was rigged with explosives. And the way he and Hunter had searched for her after she'd left the Retreat with Gordon. Then she recalls the way Coulson had come after her when she'd tried to rescue Charles, when her imperfect 'vision' had told her that he would shoot her. He's always come after her, he's always had her back, and she _owes_ him – for that, if for nothing else.

She sighs. "Okay. When you see him next, tell Mack I'll be in touch to set up a meeting."

"Thank you, Daisy."

_I just hope none of us regret it,_ she thinks as she starts up the bike and heads off towards her base.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to LA sees Daisy bringing back rather more people than she'd anticipated - a couple of whom are familiar faces.

**[3: LA]**

I suppose it was inevitable that eventually I'd end up rescuing Phil Coulson – and Mack, too. I'm not sure exactly what the two of them are doing here in LA, where I've come to collect a couple of teenage Inhumans and their two human friends. I brought Joey and Elena with me since bringing in four people at once isn't something I can handle solo. 

We're heading back to the borrowed minibus at a run when two familiar figures barrel out of a side street up ahead.

"Alfie?" calls Elena in a disbelieving tone, which tells me this isn't something she and Mack set up in order to once again bring me face to face with Phil Coulson.

"Yo-Yo! You can't go that way!" Mack shouts, running towards us.

"We can't go back, either," I shout. My eyes are on Coulson – he's still struggling with his leg after I pulled down a portion of the Playground on top of him and everyone else when I was Hive-possessed – it's been four years, but I'm not sure he'll ever fully recover, and that will always fill me with guilt and remorse. The fact that Coulson doesn't blame me, that's he forgiven me for everything I did while I was under Hive's Sway doesn't actually help with my guilt and remorse. 

"What's behind you?" I ask as our two groups come together.

"A bloody giant," Mack says, and he has to be joking, I think, but then I feel the ground vibrating, and I can feel that its footfalls are causing the vibrations. 

"Everybody behind me," I snap. "Don't waste my time by arguing, either." I glare at Mack and Coulson, and Joey and Elena, and I'm relieved when they obey me. 

The footfalls come closer. "You are going to have to huddle together as much as you can."

"What are you doing?" Elena asks.

"Creating a force field," I tell her, "to shield us." I spare them one glance to ensure that all 8 of them are huddled together, then I slowly lower both hands towards the ground, before I lift them slowly and steadily upwards, vibrating the air around us and turning it outwards.

"Can we fire through that?" Mack asks.

"There's no point," I tell him. "Your weapons would be less than a pinprick to him." 

The giant's in view now – all nine feet of him – and I hear the two teenage girls behind me beginning to sob, then Mack and Joey's soothing tones as they try to comfort them. I'm acutely aware of Coulson, who's literally at my back, but I force myself to focus on strengthening the force field around us, and I ignore him, even though I can sense how much he wants to help me.

"What are you going to do?" he asks in a low voice by my ear.

"Stop him," I answer equally quietly. 

"How."

I don't answer. Instead I concentrate my powers through my left hand, freeing up my right hand to thrust the air violently against the giant. I'm aiming for his upper body, and I must hit because I see him twitch and a surprised expression crosses his face. I double my efforts, channelling more energy through my right hand, and this time he staggers backwards at the force of the air hitting his chest.

The street around us has rapidly emptied of both vehicles and pedestrians, for which I'm very grateful as it means no one else is immediately at risk when the giant eventually topples backwards to crash full length on the street. His head hits the ground with enough force to make me stagger even as I let the force field drop. I stagger even more when the effect of using my powers so extensively hits me, and if Coulson's arms hadn't suddenly wrapped around me, I'm sure I'd have ended up on the ground too.

"Oh shit," I mutter as darkness encroaches on my vision. The last thing I see is Coulson's worried expression as he realises that I'm passing out in his arms.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

When I wake, it's to darkness, and I'm momentarily completely confused, until I realise that I'm in my bunk at my base, and lying on the bed beside me, currently asleep, is Phil Coulson. As soon as I move, though, he seems to snap awake.

"Daisy?" His whisper sounds both relieved and concerned, and I hurry to reassure him.

"Yeah, Phil, I'm okay."

He snorts softly. "Yeah, of course you are. Jemma told me that I was to tell you that 'you are on no account to move from your bed unless it's to go to the bathroom'."

I chuckle weakly at his uncannily accurate imitation of my friend. "Okay." 

"Shall I put the light on?"

"Yeah."

I sense him moving across the bed to reach for the switch on the lamp that's on the nightstand and a moment later it snaps on. It's a fairly dim bulb – purposely as I find it more restful than a bright light. He turns back towards me and I see him staring at me intently, almost as if he's trying to commit my face to his memory.

"You look better without a wig," he says.

"I feel better, too," I tell him as I sit up a bit. I can't honestly say I enjoy wearing them, but they're too useful not to when I'm out on the streets. After a moment of intense staring, I shake my head, then say, "C'mere then" as I hold my arms out towards him.

His expression lights up and he shifts closer so that we can hold each other. "God, Daisy, I've missed you so much," he says into the side of my neck.

"I've missed you, too," I tell him. After a few moments I realise he's crying, and in my weakened state, that's enough to set me off too. Which ought to make me feel pathetic, but it doesn't. It feels cathartic, if anything.

After a while we both manage to calm down enough to stop weeping, and I lie back against the pillows, easing him down beside me. Neither of us can stop touching the other – his fingers are raking through my cropped short hair, while my fingers are tracing the line of his jaw, and I'm surprised to discover I like the stubble he's adopted instead of the full-blown beard he had when I last saw him last year.

A moment later, and I'm kissing him, or maybe he's kissing me – to be honest I'm not sure I know which one of us made the first move – perhaps we moved together – I only know that being kissed by Coulson is a great experience, especially when he draws the tip of his tongue across the roof of my mouth.

When we pull apart, both of us trying to get our breath back, he says softly, "I didn't mean to do that."

I snort. "Oh really? Because from where I'm lying, mister, you were very deliberate in your actions, especially the whole 'roof of my mouth' thing."

To my amazement and amusement, he blushes – first the tips of his ears turn red, then the colour floods downwards. I find it stupidly endearing, but then he's a very endearing guy.

"You should eat," he tells me.

"In a minute," I say firmly. "Why did you say you didn't mean to kiss me?"

He ducks his head, and I free my right arm from around his torso so I can grab his chin and lift his head until I can see his face again. "Phil?"

"I've been telling myself – for the longest time – that I saw you as a daughter."

I frown. "And did you believe that ridiculous assertion?" I ask sharply.

He shakes his head. "Not really. Not if I'm being honest."

"Which you should be," I tell him. "You know how I feel about being lied to."

He swallows, then grits his teeth until a muscle in his jaw jumps. "I am being honest," he says. "It seemed the safest thing to tell myself. I'm too old for you, and too much of a company man still, even though SHIELD's pretty much gone now."

"That's bullshit, Phil, and you know it. Your age has nothing to do with it – I could easily have been killed this afternoon. I could easily be killed next week, or whenever I next go out to rescue someone." I scrape my nails lightly along his jaw and he whimpers softly. "And I know you know how to be my friend, instead of the SHIELD guy – you've done it in the past."

"Yes," he says, the word barely a whisper of agreement. 

"So then, I'm not your daughter, I've never seen you as a surrogate father, and in case you've forgotten, I _have_ a father, right here in this state – even if he's not aware of his relationship to me."

He nods, but doesn't speak. His beautiful blue eyes are fixed on my face. 

"I love you, Phil Coulson. I pretty much always have."

He swallows, then whispers, "I love you too."

I nod. "I've known that for a long time," I tell him. "Actions speak louder than words, Phil."

He blushes again, which makes me chuckle, then I pull him into another hug. I'd do more, but I definitely don't have the energy right now. I can manage more kissing though, and we're deeply engaged in that when my stomach gurgles – loudly enough that we can both hear it in the silence of my room.

He chuckles. "Food," he says. "What can I get you?"

"I've no idea what's available," I tell him. "Mike might need to go out for take out."

"He already did that after we got here," he tells me. "He took Ace and Elena with him, and they brought back supplies as well as take out. So you can have whatever you like. Also, your friend the pizza maker – Nat is it? – was in action."

I feel myself brightening up at this news, and he chuckles, so it must be noticeable. "In that case, I'll have a pizza if there are any left."

"Is that all?" he asks. "Surely one pizza isn't going to be enough, given how much you used your powers?"

I feel my face heating up, and wonder why I'm embarrassed when Phil already knows I need to eat a lot to recover from using my powers a lot. "I'll have whatever's available," I tell him.

He gives me a look, but doesn't comment, instead he gives me a soft, brief kiss that I find almost more arousing than the hungrier kisses we shared earlier, then he slips off the bed. "I'll go and forage," he says.

I chuckle. "Phil the Mighty Hunter."

He gives me a mock glare, then slips out of my room and I settle back onto my bed to take stock of the situation. While I've loved Phil for as long as I've known him, and have definitely wanted to be more than just friends with him, I never really believed it would happen. I hadn't known he'd been telling himself he saw me as a daughter, but I had been pretty sure the gap in our ages would be a stumbling block for him, even if it was not for me. 

I haven't forgotten my final conversation with Lincoln, either, when he told me he couldn't offer me anything I didn't already have. I'd known, even though he hadn't been specific, that he meant my relationship with Phil – he'd made it clear often enough that he was jealous of Coulson, and how intense we were with each other. He'd resented the fact that I put SHIELD, and the good work I believed I could do for Inhumans by remaining in SHIELD, ahead of being with him. I certainly hadn't needed his Agent assessment to tell me that he was only in SHIELD because of me.

My musings are cut short by a knock on my door, and I realise that I'd been so lost in thought I hadn't sensed Jemma's approach. "Come in."

She does, and smiles at me in a way that makes me think that maybe she's finally moving past losing Fitz. 

"Hey," I say as brightly as I can, pushing myself up into a seated position.

"Hi," she says quietly. "I just saw Coulson, and he mentioned you were awake and hungry, so I thought I'd come see how you are."

"I'm okay," I tell her. "Just the usual post-powers exhaustion and major munchies."

She nods, and I ask, "Everything okay?"

"I – yeah, I guess."

"You don't sound very certain," I point out. 

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about – but I'll wait until you're up and about," she says. When I open my mouth to speak, she shakes her head. "No, honestly, Daisy – it's okay. It can wait. You need to recover. The mission reports I've seen from the others say that you used your powers a lot – which I would've guessed anyway from the fact that you passed out afterwards – so I'll let you get some more rest, then we'll talk, if that's okay?"

"Of course," I say, and reach over to grab her hands in mine, squeezing them gently. "A couple of days, and I should be good as new."

She nods, then looks around as Phil comes in carrying a heavily laden tray.

"Oh, sorry – do you want me to wait outside?" he asks, but Jemma shakes her head and moves away from my bed. 

"No, we'd finished. Besides, Daisy needs to eat, and that food smells good."

He grins at her, and I'm startled by how much younger it makes him look. 

"Unless you need me, I'll see you tomorrow," she tells me, and I nod agreement, wondering just what's on her mind.

Then I put the thought aside as Phil sets the tray down on my nightstand and I take in the fact that he's brought me pizza, a huge bowl of soup, and a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches, not to mention chocolate milkshake, and a glass of regular milk too.

"You're spoiling me," I tease him with a smile, expecting him to smile and tease back. Instead I get a very straight look, then a nod.

"Yeah, I am," he says softly. "I intend to – a lot. I hope that's okay."

I have to swallow a lump of emotion that's lodged in my throat before I can answer. "Yeah, Phil, that's okay."

"Good." He sits on the bed, facing me, his left leg hanging off the side, but his right leg tucked under him. "What do you want first?" His hands hover over the loaded tray, as he raises his eyebrows at me.

"Soup, please." He passes me the bowl and a spoon, then unrolls a napkin and tucks into the neck of my sweater in a gesture I find impossibly tender, and I tear my gaze from the look in his eyes because if I don't, I think I might cry again.

"How is it?" he asks diffidently once I'm about half way down the bowl.

I look up, wondering, then ask, "Did you make this?"

He nods. "I don't know if you realised it yet, but you were out of it for several hours." 

I hadn't realised, and I reach for the burner phone on my nightstand, discovering it's 11pm – which means I was unconscious, or asleep – whichever – for about 6 hours.

"How did we get here so fast?"

"Mack unofficially requisitioned the Quinjet, the one we'd used to go to LA." 

I raise my eyebrows at that, but it makes sense – it takes over 24 hours to drive from LA to Wisconsin, as I know since I did the journey in reverse to go and pick up the teens. I resume eating my soup.

"How are Marta and Ellen, and their friends?"

"They're okay – Mike and Jemma got them settled in."

"Good. What happened to the giant?"

"The LAPD took care of him."

"That's a relief. How long were you sharing my bed with me?" I ask.

"About an hour," he says, and blushes, to my surprise. "I didn't mean to fall asleep – I just – well, we were running from that giant for quite a while, and my leg – " He cuts himself off, and I see him frown down at the leg in question.

"I might be able to help with that," I tell him, "once I'm recovered."

"How?" he asks, clearly surprised.

"With my powers."

His mouth drops open in an 'O' of astonishment before he recovers himself. "Really?" 

I nod. I can tell he's trying to rein in his hopefulness, and I duck my head for a moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed by my feelings for him. I finish up the soup, and he takes the bowl from me, then asks, "Pizza or grilled cheese?"

"Grilled cheese." He passes the plate and I accept it. "Is this the secret recipe version?"

He smirks. "Yeah, Daisy. That's the only version I'll ever make you."

"God, you're a dork," I exclaim, rather rudely since I have a mouth full of grilled cheese. 

He chuckles at that, looking a bit smug, if you ask me, but I don't really mind. He _is_ a dork, but luckily I like his dorkiness. 

"Did I tell you about my Princess Leia moment?" he asks.

"No, you didn't. What Princess Leia moment?"

The smirk comes back, and he proceeds to explain about the hologram he used to distract Hive, and how he'd used the 'Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope' line.

I just about manage not to choke on my sandwich, then shake my head. "You're definitely the biggest dork I know. You're so lucky I like dorks."

His expression turns serious. "I am lucky," he says quietly. "I know that. I don't take it for granted."

"I didn't suppose you do." I make my tone as reassuring as I can, and he nods.

"I don't deserve you, you know, but I am damn well going to hang onto you."

I scoff. "If you want to talk about people not deserving other people," I begin, but he cuts me off, taking my empty plate and leaning in to kiss me on the mouth.

"I don't want to talk about that," he says firmly. "Let's just agree that we don't deserve our very good luck, and try to live with it."

"Very well." 

He offers me the plate of pizza, and I grab a slice, then hold it out to him. His eyes go wide, but he takes a bite, smirking as he does so, and then he gives me such a startled look that I laugh.

"That's amazing," he tells me once he's chewed and swallowed. 

"Isn't it? I keep telling Nat that once we get out of here, she should start up her own pizza parlour."

We eat the pizza together, although he makes sure I get most of it – which I don't object to eating because I know I need the fuel.

Once the food's all gone, Phil takes the tray away, and I slip out of my room and into my bathroom, pausing to clean my teeth as well, then I walk back to my room. I don't feel too shaky, thank goodness, but no doubt the 6 hours of unconsciousness/sleep I already had has helped with that.

I get back into bed, and Phil returns a few moments later. "Mike's allocated a room to me," he tells me, standing just inside the doorway.

"Oh." He's giving me a shy look, and it occurs to me that he's not sure if I want him to sleep in with me. "Do you want to sleep there – or here?"

His ears go red, then he says, "Here, if that's okay."

"I'd like that," I tell him.

"I'll get my stuff."

I nod, and he hurries away. I'm actually going to sleep with Phil Coulson – knowingly and intentionally. It's a good thought, and I decide I'm looking forward to snuggling with him. 

He slips into my room again a few minutes later, and as he approaches I realise he's stopped off to clean his teeth before coming in – I can just smell the mint toothpaste he favours.

"Hi," he says shyly.

"Hey," I say, then tilt my head. "You're a bit overdressed, Phil."

He grins, then steps to where I can see him clearly before he begins to undress – although it'd be more accurate to describe it as him stripping for me, because he is very clearly deliberately taking his time about it.

I smirk at him, watching attentively, and am surprised that he continues – I'd half expected him to chicken out pretty quickly. He gets his shoes and socks off first, then pulls off the sweater he's wearing – a very dark grey one that looks very soft and comfy. Next comes the polo, this one black, one that I remember seeing before – it too looks soft and I find myself longing to touch it. He pauses once the polo shirt's off, and I beckon him closer to the bed, because his scar is huge, and pretty scary in one way because it's a reminder that he died, and if it hadn't been for Nick Fury, he'd have remained dead. The idea that I might never have met Phil Coulson is actually pretty disturbing.

"Can I?" I ask, and gesture at his chest. He nods, so I reach for him and guide him to sit on the edge of the bed again, then I trail my fingertips lightly down the length of the scar, biting my lip to restrain my emotions.

"Daisy." He sort of sighs my name, and I lift my eyes to his face, to see him looking at me with so much love and longing that I nearly break down anyway.

I wrap my arms around him, and he immediately embraces me in return. "It's okay," he tells me in a soft voice. "I'm okay."

"I know," I tell him, then swallow. "I just hate the thought of you getting hurt."

"Well likewise," he says, then pulls back to kiss me very tenderly. After a few moments he releases me, and I let him move away so he can stand up and finish undressing.

He raises his eyebrows at me as his hands land on his belt, and I smirk, then flick my wrist at him. He muffles a yelp of surprise as his belt opens, then his zipper slides down. "Daisy," he gasps, looking simultaneously shocked and aroused. "You shouldn't be using your powers."

I smirk at him again. "The fact that I can tells you that I'm well on the way to recovering," I tell him.

"Nevertheless."

I shake my head at him. "Get 'em off, Phil," I say sternly, and see him shiver. Since my room's warm, I know he's not shivering from cold, so it must be a reaction to me ordering him around – and isn't that an intriguing thought to contemplate?

He obeys, sliding his jeans down his legs – and bringing his boxers with them. He doesn't straighten up until the jeans and boxers are at his ankles, but when he does I get a clear view of his aroused dick. It's pretty big – long and thick, with the head brushing against his belly, and I beckon him over to the bed again.

"C'mere," I say in a low growling tone. 

"Like what you see, do you?" he asks, and smirks because it must be pretty obvious that I do, even if I don't have a rampant erection to show for it.

"Very much," I tell him. He stands beside the bed and when I reach down to pull off my sweater, he stays my hands, then grabs the hem, tugging it slowly and carefully up my torso, then over my head, revealing the white tank I'm wearing beneath it.

"Fuck, Daisy," he whispers. "You're so gorgeous." He sounds awed, and I can feel myself growing even more aroused by his obvious and intense interest.

"Tank, too," I tell him, and he nods adamantly, then tugs that off as well, baring my breasts. My nipples are already stiff, and my breasts ache with desire.

"Sweatpants?" he asks, and I nod, then stretch out on the bed, lifting my ass, so he can peel them off me, and he drops them to the floor beside my bed, leaving both of us naked. 

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to," he says.

"I want to do you," I tell him, which startles him into quiet laughter.

"Yeah," he agrees, a bit too fervently.

I sit up, grab his forearms, and tug him down onto the bed, which makes him gasp in surprise, then laugh some more – I think it's the suddenness of my move that's surprised him.

"I don't have any condoms," I tell him, feeling my face heat up at this admission. 

To my surprise he blushes before admitting, "I do." When I raise an eyebrow, he adds, a little defensively, I think, "Elena gave me some when I went downstairs with your dinner things."

"Did she?" I ask, surprised again. "Huh."

He climbs back off the bed and fishes in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his wallet, which he opens to reveal a handful of little foil packets. He drops them onto my nightstand, then climbs onto the bed beside me, and I persuade him to lie on his back while I put a condom on him. He moans and shivers as I touch his cock for the first time, and I feel a stab of desire between my thighs at the sound, and the feeling of his cock under my hand.

"I want you on top," I tell him, and he nods, then moves beside me as I settle on my back. He slips a finger into my sex, then smirks a bit when he finds that I'm already wet. He adds a second finger and begins to fingerfuck me – which wasn't at all what I'd expected, but he's very good at it – he definitely knows his way around a woman's sex, and it doesn't take him long to drive me to a very intense orgasm that leaves my bed shaking slightly.

"Is that – " he begins, looking both surprised and smug.

"My powers, yes. Congratulations, Phil, you gave me an earthquake-worthy orgasm."

His ears burn, but he doesn't seem too embarrassed at the discovery. He just draws his fingers free of me, and I grab his wrist, then pull his hand to my mouth, sliding his fingers past my lips so I can suck them clean.

He groans rather loudly at this, then quickly moves his body over mine, sliding his cock into me slowly, which gives me time to adjust to the stretch as he fills me.

"Fuck," he moans, and I agree with him: he feels amazing. "Are you okay?"

I nod, and he begins to thrust, slowly and shallowly at first, but then deeper, harder, and faster as I wrap my legs around his waist. He begins to kiss me as he fucks me, but his mouth soon roams from mine to slide along my collar bones, then back to my throat, before he draws one of my breasts into his mouth. He sucks hard on it, and I come, my back arching up from the bed, and the room rattling lightly again.

"You look so beautiful when you come," he tells me, and I can only moan as he does his best to fuck me through the mattress.

I feel his orgasm about to hit him moments before it actually does, and that's as amazing as anything else that's happening right now. I'm also surprised by how good our first fuck is – I've never had such an intensely pleasurable first time with someone before, and I wonder why it's so good. Is it the familiarity, because we've known each other for so long? Or is it the fact we share the GH-325 drug and Kree DNA? After a moment's thought I decide it doesn't matter, all that matters is the weight of Phil's body resting over mine as his cock begins to soften inside me, and the contentment that's radiating through his vibrations as he begins to come down from his orgasm.

He nuzzles the side of my neck, then kisses along my jaw until his mouth reaches mine, and I open my mouth to his, eager to enjoy the impunity of kissing him whenever I want to.

"Thank you," he says softly when he finally pulls away.

I open my mouth to answer, and find myself yawning instead. He smiles, then rolls off me and disposes of the used condom, before climbing back onto the bed beside me. We pull the comforter up over ourselves together, then snuggle up, my back to his chest, and his arms wrapped around my torso. I fold my arms over his, and realise that, for the first time since I was Swayed by Hive, I feel safe again. It's a heady feeling, and one I'm determined not to give up, no matter what.

**[Interlude 3]**

"Daisy." He gives her a soft smile when she walks into the mess looking for coffee and some breakfast before she heads to her office to begin the day's work.

"Phil." She smiles back, then accepts the mug of coffee he's just poured, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth with a hum of gratitude that makes him wish he could take her back to bed again. A temptation made stronger by the fact that she smells really good from her post-workout shower, and that she looks good in her black tank and jeans. "Thanks," she says, before taking her first mouthful.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asks, and she smirks, which makes him raise an enquiring eyebrow.

"Is this how it's going to be from now on?" she asks, her tone teasing. "Mr Domestic and Ms Rogue Inhuman?"

He swallows a sudden lump in his throat, and he's not sure what his expression is, but she goes from teasing to concerned in a split second.

"Phil?"

"I – " He finds he can't get the words out, not just yet, and she sets the mug of coffee down, then moves into his personal space, sliding her arms around him.

"What is it?" she asks softly, and he's grateful that it's still early, so that there's no one else here to witness this – it's going to take him time to get used to PDA.

"I wasn't sure you were planning on letting me stay," he says.

Her eyebrows go up. "Of course I want you to stay," she says immediately, then adds, "Unless you don't want to."

"No, I want to," he says quickly. "I want to help you, if you'll let me."

"Of course, I will." She kisses him, quickly and tenderly, then rests her head against his shoulder. "Now we're finally together, I'm not planning on letting you go anywhere."

He can't help it, he starts crying, but he feels like a fool. 

"Oh Phil," she says softly. "C'mon, let's take this to my office."

He picks up their mugs of coffee because if they're going to have some sort of emotional heart-to-heart, they'll need their coffee. She keeps one arm wrapped around his waist as she walks him down the hall, then up a flight of stairs and through to the annexe at the back of the building. It's not original – Joey, with help from Mike and some of the others, put it in for her so that she could have her office and living quarters a bit separate from the other residents. The evening before, when they were flying back to Wisconsin, Joey had told him that Daisy has plans for another block of rooms to be added to the site because she anticipates that their numbers will continue to increase until the Sokovia Accords are finally repealed. 

She unlocks her office door, ushers him inside, then closes and locks it behind her. "Security Protocol Delta Juliett One Zero One," she recites, and a moment later there's an electronic chirp, then a blue filter covers the windows, and the glass of the door.

When she turns around he's staring at her in astonishment, and she looks momentarily embarrassed, though he can't understand why.

"It's a bit paranoid of me, I know," she says, sounding defensive, "but better safe than sorry. And it's good practice to always lockdown my office when I come in, even if I'm not going to be handling any data that's confidential or otherwise sensitive."

"I don't think it's paranoid," he says reassuringly. "It's _smart_ , and that's just like you."

She nods, then reaches over and takes her coffee from him with one hand, before grabbing his left hand with her free hand. "C'mon," she says, and leads the way across to a couch that's angled to a fireplace that's currently empty. "Sit down and talk to me."

They settle side by side on the couch, and drink their coffee in silence for a minute or two before he finds the words for what he wants to say. 

"You've been running this place, and managing 'Operation Quake' for so many years, that I wasn't sure there was room for me, or that you'd want a reminder of what you'd lost."

She shakes her head. "Phil, I'll always make room for you, if you want to work with me. I've missed you so fucking much," she says, and the profanity startles him, as does her vehement tone. "You and I always worked well together, planning ops, or out on the field. You've given me so much support and encouragement in the years I've known you. You've never doubted me, or abandoned me, even when you probably should have. Doing this without your help has been so hard."

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Don't be," she says firmly. "It was my decision to walk away, and it was my choice to continue to stay outside SHIELD and the ATCU, and any of the other organisations the Government was using to track down people like me." She finishes the rest of her coffee, then sets the mug on the floor. "So many times I thought about bringing you in – with a bag over your head if necessary."

That startles a laugh out of him, and she smiles when she hears it. "Would you really have brought me in like that?" he asks curiously.

"I thought about it from time to time," she tells him. "But I never did because I wanted it to be your choice to join up with me."

"But you didn't offer me the choice," he reminds her. "That time when we met up – you never gave me the impression you wanted me to get involved."

"Of course not," she says immediately. "If you had joined me, you'd have been throwing away your career after what – is it 35 years?" He nods. "There was also the additional, complicating factor – that I loved you, but I wasn't at all sure you felt exactly the same way that I felt about you."

"I don't care about my career," he tells her, his tone a bit vehement. "It hasn't been worth much since the President and Talbot merged SHIELD into the ATCU." He's still angry about that, if the truth be told – he understands the expediency, but that doesn't mean he likes it.

She's giving him a long considering look as he speaks, and then she smiles. "Guess Phil Coulson's just a big ol' rebel now, then," she says teasingly. 

He can't help chuckling at that, and feels a weight lift off his chest as he does. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Good." She leans over and kisses him on the corner of his mouth, and he decides it's a gesture he likes a lot. He wraps his arm around her and she smirks, then snuggles into him for a few minutes.

He's not sure how long they might have stayed there, cuddling and kissing, but the big screen on her wall flashes into life, with a cluster of red and blue lights flaring brightly.

"Washington DC," Daisy says, crossing to her desk and tapping on keys. He feels his stomach clench tightly at her words. "This looks bad. I'm going to have to go."

"I'm coming with you," he says.

She nods. "You, and Joey, and Elena," she says. She looks back up at the screen and he sees surprise and concern flash over her face. Turning around to look at it, he realises why: the people in need of rescuing are Brigadier General Glen Talbot, and his wife and son.

"Shit," he says softly.

"Yeah," Daisy agrees. She grabs her tablet, then cancels the lockdown on her office, and he follows her as she rushes from the room.

_This could be interesting,_ Phil thinks as they enter the main building of Daisy's base. _Or it could be an utter disaster._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An end - and a new beginning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes my love-song to Daisy 'Quake' Johnson who is the only Marvel superhero.

**[4: Washington DC]**

I've always tried to take an interest in my husband's work, but once Glenn moved from the Air Force to the ATCU, I found it harder to talk to him about his work – I think he thought he was protecting me by not telling me about the Inhumans and other powered people he had to round up and bring in. They made him nervous, I know – I'd heard him refer to them as 'freaks' often, but thought that was just his way of trying to diffuse his fears. I suspect he'd have behaved differently if we'd known I was an Inhuman, or that George had inherited that from me. We're both watching George now, staring in dismay and disbelief as he seems to flicker in and out of existence as he runs around the office, Glenn's office inside the ATCU, where people like me and George are held until a cure can be found for our Inhuman genes; apparently George now has the ability to turn himself invisible. 

"What are we going to do?" I ask Glenn in a desperate tone. 

He slightly relaxes the iron grip he has on my upper arm, and it's only when he does that I realise just how tightly he's been holding me – I think I'll probably have bruises afterwards.

"I – I – " he stutters for a moment, then says, "There's someone I know. Someone who might be able to help – if I can persuade her to overlook certain things I've said in the past."

I glare at him, processing the fact that he's probably majorly upset the person best able to help my little boy. "I – " I begin, and get no further because the door which I'd seen Glenn lock earlier, opens, and four people enter the room. Two immediately stand on either side of the doorway as the door's closed by the oldest person in the group, a man with a military-style short haircut, who can't actually be a member of the armed forces because they'd never allow him to sport that stubble. The fourth member of the group, a young woman with blonde hair and heavy, Goth-inspired make up, ignores us entirely and heads straight to George just as he collapses to the floor in the corner.

I start to get to my feet, but Glenn holds me back. "That's her," he says, a little cryptically, I think, until I realise this young woman's the person he'd been talking about before. 

The two of us stand up, and the older man comes over immediately. "General," he says, and holds out his hand.

"Coulson," Glenn says. "Don't tell me, you've switched sides."

The man, Coulson, smirks. "All right, I won't tell you I've switched sides."

"Goddammit, man, why?" Glenn demands in an angry whisper.

Coulson tilts his head towards the young woman. "You know why, Glenn."

My husband rolls his eyes, then blows out his moustache, before turning to me. "Carla, this is Phil Coulson, one time Agent and then Director of SHIELD. Coulson, this is my wife, Carla."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he says, offering me his hand and giving me a genuine smile. "I'm sorry it's not in better circumstances."

I shake hands, even as I demand, "Who is that?" I look over at the young woman, who's sitting on the floor beside George, her hand on his knee, and her expression kind and intently focused.

"That is Quake," Glenn tells me. "Formerly Agent Daisy Johnson of SHIELD."

"That's – " I cut myself off. "No, it can't be. _You_ are always telling me what a danger to the public she is. You've called her a menace, and – " I pause, arrested by the slightly frozen nature of Coulson's smile. "Sorry," I whisper.

He shakes his head. "It's alright, ma'am. I'm well aware of the General's opinions about Inhumans."

"Everyone is," I say testily. "Including myself and my son, who it now turns out, is one of those self-same 'freaks'."

I'm watching the young woman, Daisy I remember, who's now got her arm around George and is talking to him in a low voice. "Can she help him?" I ask Coulson.

"Carla – " Glenn begins in a warning tone.

"Don't you 'Carla' me in that tone, Glenn Talbot," I say in a low, fierce voice. "Our son has Inhuman powers. My boy." My voice breaks on those last two words, and Glenn shuffles his feet, his expression nervous and awkward as tears slip uncontrollably down my face.

Coulson steps closer to me even as my husband shifts away. "Here," he says, and takes a folded pocket handkerchief from his jeans pocket, and what kind of man carries a pocket handkerchief in this day and age, I wonder, even as I accept it.

"My make up – " I begin, and he shakes his head.

"It's okay, Mrs Talbot," he says in a kind voice. "And yes, Daisy can help George, although she can't change him back – nothing and no one can do that, unfortunately. But she can teach your son how to manage and control his powers, and how to deal with the kind of – " He pauses and I can practically see him choosing his words with care. "The kind of backlash that is all too often aimed at Inhumans and other powered people." He smiles. "And Daisy's very, very good with children, I can promise you."

I nod, mopping at my face, and watch as Daisy and George get to their feet, then approach us, holding hands. George looks up at her, his expression so trusting that I almost start weeping again, but I bite my lip and hold it back. As they reach us, I crouch down to his eye level, and he gives me a brave, slightly shaky, smile.

"Mom, it's going to be okay," he tells me, reaching out with his free hand to touch my wrist. "Daisy said so."

I'm not surprised when Daisy crouches down between us, George's hand still held carefully in her own. 

"It's true, Mrs Talbot," she says in an earnest tone, her smile friendly. "I can't take George's powers away, I'm afraid. If I could, I would. But I can teach him how to control them."

"Where will you take him?"

"I've got a secure location in Wisconsin," she tells me.

I nod. "Will I be able to visit him?" I ask, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

Her eyes go wide. "I'm sorry, Mrs Talbot, I thought you knew – you're welcome to come too. You're his mother – " She glances up at Glenn and Coulson. "You're his parents – I wouldn't dream of splitting you up. George needs your support right now."

"Oh!" I gasp, then try to choke back my tears, to no avail.

"Mom," George says in a little, worried voice, then he throws his arms around me, and after a moment I feel Daisy's hand on my back, offering comfort to a stranger, to the wife of the man who's been hounding her and her kind for years, and that makes me cry even harder.

"Daisy." 

Coulson only says her name, but it seems to me that there's a wealth of meaning in just that one word, because she gives a quick nod, then says, "We have to get out of here." She looks up at Glenn. "I suggest you head home and pack some clothes and whatever George might want in the way of toys, games, DVDs, etc. Phil will go with you, and he'll bring you to where we've left our transport."

Glenn frowns ferociously, and I have an awful moment of wondering whether he's going to object, but he just nods, glances at Coulson, then down at me and George, still crouched on the floor. "I'll be back soon, honey," he tells me. "George, we're going to stay with Daisy and her friends for a while – what do you want me to bring you?"

"I'll go," I tell them. "I'll be quicker because I know what he'd like."

Glenn looks relieved, then guilty as he nods his assent, and I brush a kiss over George's temple, then get to my feet. "Lead the way, Agent Coulson."

"It's just Coulson, ma'am," he tells me. "I no longer work for SHIELD or the ATCU."

I hear Glenn take a breath behind me, but I place my hand on Coulson's forearm and nod at the door, and he leads me away. 

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

Twenty four hours later, I'm still trying to get my head around this Inhuman business. Once we arrived here yesterday Daisy immediately took George to see a young woman named Dr Simmons. Glenn and I had gone with them, and I'd been impressed by the kindly, sensible, and above all, straight-forward attitude of the young doctor. She'd examined George thoroughly, and run through some basic tests with him, which Daisy had assured us were meant to establish the base line for his powers – how they were affecting things like his heart rate, blood pressure, etc. when his powers weren't in use.

After that, we were shown where the mess is, and told we could help ourselves to whatever food we wanted, although she asked that we make a note of what things we'd used, as it helped them to keep track of their inventory with so many people living on the site. Then Daisy had brought us into what she called the Annexe, a three story building at the back of the main building which, she told us, held her office and private quarters, and the gym she used. On the top floor, though, was what she called the Family Suite. 

"This is where I bring newly arrived family groups," she told us. "You can stay here for as long or short a time as you need – but it's to give you some privacy and space to come to terms with the situation before you move into the main building."

"You mean –" I began, horrified, before rounding on Glenn. "You have _got_ to stop this!"

He looked startled by my ferocity, but I could see from the corner of my eye that Daisy was amused, though she was careful to wipe that from her face before I looked at her again.

"Me?" Glenn asked, sounding confused.

"Yes, you," I said fiercely. "You need to talk to President Ellis, and get him to repeal those stupid Accords, then we can go back home and go back to our normal lives, what's left of them."

Glenn spluttered quite a bit, but didn't manage to get out a single coherent word. I turned my attention back to Daisy.

"How many people have stayed here?"

"In the Annexe?" I nodded. "So far four family groups. I'm hoping, if the Accords don't get repealed, to build a separate unit for the same purpose – but it'll be entirely separate from the main building to ensure greater privacy." 

"Do we eat in here or back there?" I asked.

"That's your decision," she said immediately. "You'd be welcome to eat in the mess if you choose to, but no one here's going to hold it against you if you choose to eat over here."

"What about funding?" I asked.

She blinked at me. "Funding?"

I nodded. "It must cost an awful lot of money to feed and house all these people – you said, on the Quinjet coming here yesterday, that there's upwards of 50 people here now."

She nodded too. "I think your family brings the total to 55." She rubbed a hand over her face. "I've got a good source of income." She glanced sideways at Glenn as she said that, and he suddenly seemed very interested in whatever's out of the window.

"I'd like to make a contribution," I told her.

She smiled. "I'll never turn down extra funds, Mrs Talbot," she said quietly.

"Carla," I told her, and held out my hand.

She laughed softly, then shook hands with me. "I'll leave you to get settled in," she said. "The phone in here is connected to my office, so you can call me if you need anything."

"Thank you."

She turned to go, and George pulled away from me and ran after her, calling her name. She immediately stopped and turned around, then crouched down as he threw himself at her.

"When can I see you again?" I heard him ask.

"I'll be back later to see how you're getting on, I promise," she told with a quiet sincerity that made me tear up. "And later on I'll introduce you to Maisie and Ace, the other two children that I told you live here."

"Okay." He let her go and came back towards us, then veered towards the window. Glenn followed him, but I followed Daisy.

"Daisy," I called after her as she reached the top of the stairs.

"Mrs – Carla?" 

"Will he be okay?"

She tilted her head to one side, then asked, "Have you got a specific concern?"

I nodded, biting my lip. "He seems more babyish than before."

She nodded. "He'll get over that. Give him time to adjust – this has been a huge change for him – physically, mentally, and emotionally. If he's not back to his usual self in another day or two, we'll talk to Jemma, Dr Simmons, that is."

She surprised me by putting both hands on my forearms, giving me a look that I realised was meant to ask permission to do more, then hugged me when I nodded at her.

"This has been a big change for all three of you," she said quietly. "Crying, shouting, or even fighting are not uncommon reactions – and I imagine your reactions will be magnified by your husband's position and known attitudes towards people like George and me, people like you, too." She patted my back. "Don't forget, you're one of us now, too. Even if you haven't gone through Terrigenesis, you're still an Inhuman."

"Should I?" I asked.

She gave me a confused look that cleared abruptly. "Do you want to?"

"I – " I bit my lip, then shook my head. "No, but maybe I shouldn't let that stop me. Maybe I can help George to understand better."

Daisy shook her head. "If you'd already undergone Terrigenesis, that would be different. Going through it now? That'd be much, much harder on all three of you. And since none of us knows what powers we'll get, you might actually end up worse off – not everyone's powers are easily controlled, or benign."

"Yours aren't," I observed quietly.

"Nope," she said, quite cheerfully, I thought. "I've got the power to rip continents apart." She smiled. "I've also got powers that I can use to reheat a bowl of soup, or to ease someone's muscles via a vibrating massage, or to slow someone's descent if they're falling from a building. It took me a lot longer to learn how to do the smaller, more focused things with them, than it did to control the bigger, scarier stuff."

"Thank you. Thank you for coming to help us, and thank you for bringing us here. And especially thank you for not holding Glenn's role against us."

She shrugged, looking embarrassed. "All I ever want to do is help people," she said.

"You've helped us," I said reassuringly.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of stuff to get done before I can think about going to bed." She gave me one final squeeze, then stepped back. "You should consider going to bed, too. You'll feel better for some rest."

I nodded, let her go, then returned to my family. I had a feeling the next few days were going to be hard.

Now, 24 hours later, I can see that George is more or less back to his usual self. He and Ace, who's Mike Peterson's son (Mike is half cyborg, rather than an Inhuman), and Maisie, whose older sister Amber had brought her up from the age of 12, are sitting around a table in the main room of the Family Suite, playing a complicated computer game that seems to be all bright lights and loud music, but it's clear they're having fun, so I'm trying to relax and talk to Mike. Which is harder than I thought it'd be – it's not the fact that he's half cyborg and has a badly burned face – neither of which bother me a great deal – it's just that I hardly know how to talk to him when he's had to put up with so much from men like Glenn.

Glenn isn't here. He's left early this morning to fly to DC so he can talk to the President about the Sokovia Accords. I've no idea how much influence he's got over the current man, and it makes me nervous, thinking about what President Ellis might say or do. I've never felt so threatened in my life, even though no one's actually threatening us right now – we're safer here than we'd be if we were at home. And yet…

"Carla." Mike's soft voice cuts through my increasingly panic-stricken thoughts, and he briefly touches my wrist. "You'll be okay, I promise. Daisy knows her stuff. Jemma too."

I remember that Daisy had introduced Mike as Jemma's partner, and I feel some curiosity about how the two of them met and got together, but I don't feel I have the right to pry. I can't help asking, though, "Have you known Jemma long?"

"Almost as long as I've known Daisy," he tells me. "Daisy's the one who found me after the Centipede Group gave me the serum that makes me really strong and heal really fast. And she was the one who convinced Coulson to persuade his superiors in SHIELD to help me, and also convinced me that joining SHIELD would be a good thing."

I nod, and he gives me a crooked smile. "I sold Coulson out, though – the guy behind the Centipede Group, who was a rogue SHIELD agent, wanted some information from Coulson, so they kidnapped my son to make me give Coulson up."

"What happened?" I ask, surprised and interested by the tale he's unfolding. 

"Oh Daisy rescued Coulson – it was quite something, I heard. But I got captured at the same time as Coulson when I got caught in an explosion. That's how I got this." He touches the burn scars on his face. "And how I lost my leg, which was replaced by a cybernetic one. I was lucky, though – Coulson chose to forgive me for getting him taken hostage, and I was able to return to SHIELD before the ATCU took it over."

"Have Daisy and Coulson been together all this time?" I ask, and I'm surprised when Mike chuckles.

"They've literally only just got together," he tells me, and I'm very surprised by the news because they act like an old married couple – maybe even more so than Glenn and I do.

Before I can ask any further questions, Daisy comes in, and the children immediately abandon their game to crowd around her, which she takes in good part, sitting down on the floor so that she can talk to them more comfortably.

"She'll make a great mother," I comment quietly.

"Yeah, she will." Mike's tone is wistful, and I wonder if he has ever harboured romantic feelings for Daisy. That's one question I don't plan to ask, however.

"Okay you three," Daisy says, "playtime's over. Ace, Maisie, you've got homework to do, haven't you?"

They both nod, and hurry out, and Daisy turns her attention to George. "And you, young sir, are going to come with me – your mom too," she adds, glancing my way, "and we are going to go and see what you can do with your new powers."

"I'll see you later," Mike tells me with a friendly smile as he stands. I nod as I get to my feet, and he pauses for a brief word with Daisy, then heads out.

"Where are we going?" I ask feeling a little nervous.

"Along to see Dr Simmons in her lab." She holds out her hand to George, who immediately grabs it, and they lead the way out of the Annexe and into the main building, heading downstairs to the basement where there's a big lab on one side of the hall, and a big gym on the other.

Dr Simmons invites me to take a seat, then she and Daisy begin working with George, and I feel myself relaxing for the first time since he came out of his cocoon, because it's obvious that these two both know exactly what they're doing, and that they both care very much about the people with whom they're dealing.

My son is in good hands.

**[Interlude 4]**

Daisy stands towards the back of the crowd outside the White House, Phil at her side, his shoulder pressed against hers, as they listen, along with everyone else, to the press conference that announces the end of the Sokovia Accords, not just in the US, but worldwide. It's taken a couple of years to achieve, and Daisy almost can't believe this is the end of years of operating as a 'rogue' Inhuman, saving Inhumans from bigoted humans, and saving humans from dangerous Inhumans. 

The President finishes his speech, and the press start asking a barrage of questions, at which point Daisy and Phil start to ease their way through the press corps and other interested parties, until they're free of the crowd. He slides his hand into hers, then lifts it so he can press a kiss to her knuckles.

"Still corny, Phil," she teases, and he pretends to pout at her, knowing that she finds his pouts sexy.

"So that's it, then. Quake can come out of the shadows and into the light," he says.

" _We_ can come out of the shadows," she says, squeezing his fingers carefully.

"Yeah." His expression is a little wistful, and she wonders why. "It's going to be weird, though, after all these years." 

She nods. It'll be weirder for her, of course, since Phil was part of the ATCU before he joined her.

"What are you going to do with the base? Sell it off?"

She gives him a surprised look. "Nope. I plan on keeping it running – I plan on using it to help new Inhumans to come to terms with their powers."

"Like Afterlife?" he asks, his voice softer.

"And not like Afterlife," she says. "We won't be isolated – the community will know we're there. Well, we've been there all this time anyway – for years – without once causing them any trouble, so they'll just have to adapt to us being visibly there."

"What will you call it?"

"Second Chance. I asked May and she told me the Mandarin, so I may go with that, but in English, it'll be Second Chance." She smirks at him a bit and he gives her a bemused look. "I thought of calling it 'A New Hope', she tells him, and chuckles at his amazed expression.

"Why did you change your mind?" he demands, sounding breathlessly aggrieved.

"Too dorky, Phil."

He pouts for real this time, and she chuckles, then pulls his body against hers and kisses him very thoroughly, feeling his body respond both via his vibrations, and his cock stiffening against her thigh. (It's more noticeable in the light grey suit he's wearing.)

When she releases him, she takes in the sight of him – his lips pink from being kissed so intensely, and his eyes dark with desire, not to mention his cock threatening to burst out of his pants.

"So, Phil, where do you want to go for our first sightseeing trip?"

"I think we should go back to our hotel room so I can get changed," he tells her, and there's a hint of a leer in his expression that lets her know – as if she didn't already – that he's not that interested in seeing any sights except her, naked.

"Mmm." She pretends to give it some consideration, even as she's flagging down a cab behind his back. "Yeah, okay. You'll probably enjoy the sightseeing more if you're not wearing a 3-piece suit."

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "You think?"

She laughs, shakes her head, then more or less drags him across the sidewalk and bundles him into the cab. She gives the driver the address of their hotel, then proceeds to make out rather enthusiastically with Phil in the back seat.

"You folks better not be getting up to any hanky-panky back there," calls the cab driver, which makes Daisy giggle so much that she has to pull away from Phil.

"No hanky, or panky," she assures the cabbie, still giggling, while Phil tries to catch his breath after being kissed so soundly.

Once at the hotel, they hop into the elevator and are whisked rapidly upwards to their suite, then Daisy grabs Phil's tie and begins kissing him as she walks him backwards down the hallway to their room.

He groans when she releases his mouth so she can dig out her keycard and open the door, and as soon as they're inside the room, he backs her against the wall next to the door, kissing her aggressively, and rolling his hips against hers. She gets his jacket and tie off, unbuttons his shirt, then unfastens his belt and pants, before sliding her hand into his boxers to clasp his rock hard cock. She strokes him a couple of times even as he fumbles the hem of her dress upwards, and her panties down and off. It's Daisy's turn to groan when he slips first one, then another, of the fingers of his left hand into her slick sex.

He fingers her to a fast, hard orgasm that makes the door rattle slightly on its hinges, then he pulls his fingers free and she sucks them clean. He helps her out of the dress, then turns her around to face the wall, and she peers back at him, seeing him step out of his pants, boxers, shoes, and socks, so that he's naked apart from the open shirt that he's still wearing.

"Leave it," she says hoarsely when he goes to remove the shirt.

He raises his eyebrows, but obeys, and in moments his hard cock is sliding into her wet heat.

"Fuck!" he groans against her ear, and she can't disagree because his cock feels huge right now. He withdraws it until only the tip's still inside her, then slams it back into her, making her grunt. He fucks her deep and hard, his right hand toying with her breasts while he uses his left hand to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts until Daisy comes hard, muffling a scream of pleasure in the crook of her arm. Moments later his cock starts spurting inside her, and she comes again, a somewhat shallower orgasm this time.

They peel themselves off the wall, and Phil discards his shirt, then grabs her hand and leads her over to the bed. She settles on her back in the middle, watching him intently as he climbs up onto the foot of the bed and spreading her legs wide, he bends his head over her pussy, then proceeds to eat her out.

By the time he's finished, she's come twice more, and he's hard enough to fuck, so she draws him up her body, then pulls him down on top of her, guiding his cock into her sex herself. She suspects she might be a little sore later, but it's a small price to pay for the very good fucking he gives her. He swallows her screams of pleasure as she comes, far harder this time, and to an accompaniment of the room shaking briefly and lightly.

They take it in turns to shower, Phil stripping the bed of their sheets before replacing them while Daisy's in the shower, then they settle on the bed together, snuggling in each other's arms. 

_It feels good_ , she thinks muzzily, and he brushes his lips lightly over hers as she drifts into sleep.

Right now, life is good.


End file.
